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There’s a rather obscure movie out right now, or at least I think so, called Dean. The basic crux of the story is about a young man and his father who just keep clashing with one another because of this nagging grief that they share for the loss of their mother and wife. They both have very different ways of dealing with what life has given them and neither understands the other. Long and short of it, without even knowing it, separate themselves from one another to deal with their loss before they can once again come to a deeper understanding of their own relationship with one another and remember the love they have and share. Quite honestly, it would be true of all of us here. These deepest parts of ourselves, love, loss, grief, hunger, desire, all of them run so deep within us and often need to be found in our own way before we begin to see the oneness we have with the other and a shared love.

These two weeks now we’ve heard different versions of the story of the exodus of people Israel. Today’s account comes to us from Deuteronomy. The very first word out of Moses’ mouth today is simply to remember. For the people today it was about this deepest hunger in their lives that they continue to seek out and to fill. Much of their time, as it is with us, is forgetting who we really are in life and in our deepest self and love. Israel was no different. And, of course, over time, you begin to believe that you’re something other than you are. You no longer remember. For them it has been about their experience in the desert and the experience of slavery in Egypt. They’ve thought God had abandoned them and somehow rejected them over time, punishing them for some reason. But Moses simply reminds them today to remember. It’s almost as if, as Moses points out, that they had to have this experience of the desert and to come into awareness of this deeper hunger in their lives before they can begin to remember once again. So much, not only in their lives, must be forgotten and let go of before they can begin to question and remember and once again come together as community, more deeply rooted in their truest begin, in love.

Some who followed Jesus in those early days had similar experiences. Shortly following today’s reading many will begin to disperse and fall away from Jesus. They hear what he says, often taking it literally, and realize they just can’t do it. Even in their own experience of separation from doesn’t necessarily lead them to the deeper places of their own lives. They want to believe, as we often do, what we see and exactly what we hear in words. But that’s not the Jesus we encounter in today’s Gospel or who we encounter in this Eucharist week in and week out. In his own way, John through Jesus and Christ through him is trying to move them to a place of remember their deeper identity as well. As if, what speaks to us in this Eucharist can only somehow communicate with the deepest parts of ourselves. It’s hard because we want to stay on the surface and go with what we feel, but this remembering takes us deeper than all of that.

Paul consistently tries to lead communities to that deeper place of understanding in their own lives. They find other ways to separate themselves but in ways that often lead to divisions within their communities. Even today, the larger context is to warn them about having more than one God. That too is easy for us in our own process of forgetting not what we need to let go of, but forgetting that deeper love that we are. We begin to satisfy those deepest longings and hungers within ourselves with something other than God, creating gods for ourselves, often fooling ourselves into believing that it will somehow satisfy, forgetting what is most important to us.

Over time all of this that we celebrate begins to be forgotten on the deeper levels. We become more about worshipping, distancing ourselves not only from the drama of our lives but the drama that unfolds before us here. We, over time, find ways to separate ourselves while this God, as it was for Israel, continues to offer manna, food that will satisfy, even in our desert experiences. Yeah, in some ways I stand before you in a privileged position. I stand at this altar celebrating the highs and lows of life, even my own. I know the stories that flow through this table and Eucharist. I have seen it unfold, trying to lead others in their deepest grief, their unsatisfied longings, and all the rest, to a place of remembering. No matter what we may be experiencing in our own life, this Eucharist we celebrate and share it stands as a reminder of who we are and the life we are called to, a life of not simply worshipping this God, but allowing ourselves to be transformed by this God. As we move to this Eucharistic celebration, remember. Remember not only what you are but who you are in your deepest self, love. In the midst of our own forgetting in life, the Eucharist calls us back to continue to be transformed into this love for an often divided and separated world.

In his book, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey makes the point, and I paraphrase, that more often than not we don’t listen to understand the other but rather listen with the intent to reply or react. We have it all figured out, and so often without even knowing it, we predict the end of a conversation or another’s thought based on judgement, our own opinion, or simply the tapes that play over and over in our heads that have already determined the outcome. We don’t listen to understand but rather listen to reply, to react, to the other. Any, in the word of Jesus, life-giving water we may have becomes stagnant in the process. We like predictability. We like certainty. Listening to understand, however, puts us in a place of vulnerability of possibly having to let go of things and change.

That brings us to today’s gospel of the Samaritan Woman. Even that story we can predict where it’s going. We know it and it’s hard to listen to it in a different way, a new way. But that’s also the life of this woman and she likes it that way or at least wants it that way. Even the fact that she arrives at the well at noon. It’s crazy. No one in their right mind would go to the well at that time of day. It’s too hot and it would be grueling. The time for the women to go was early in the morning or at evening, when the sun isn’t so hot. But mindful that she wants the predictability, she already knows all of that and it becomes a way to avoid others, to cut herself off from them and their judgment. You see, she not only has a set of tapes about all of them, she has them about herself. If she avoids them she can avoid that feeling of guilt and shame that she has defined herself by because of her life. Jesus points out that she’s been married several times and is currently in another relationship but not married. She knows it and they do as well.

This time is different, though, because she encounters Jesus. Now even in this case she comes off as rather terse towards him. He too doesn’t belong there so she doesn’t quite know what to do. Her predictable situation now has uncertainty. But she also has a running tape about men and Jews that only complicates the matter and so she’s less than thrilled for this encounter. Our immediate thought often with John’s Gospel, though, is that Jesus is the one that doesn’t listen to understand. He seems to talk past her and there is a great deal of misunderstanding. The tapes are no longer working with him. I’m guessing it’s often the case in our own relationships as to why there is conflict, because there is misunderstanding. But it’s not Jesus that doesn’t understand. It’s me and it’s you; it’s us that don’t understand. He’s not trying to move himself to a deeper understanding he’s trying to move her and us to a deeper place, trying to break through the wall we create for ourselves that cuts us off from others and God’s love and mercy. We think these defense mechanisms are going to somehow protect us from hurt, but they only isolate us more and cut us off from each other and God. Her hurt and pain runs so deep but she begins to show signs of it breaking down. In John’s Gospel this conversion, this transformation is all a process. She begins to doubt. She begins to question. No, not necessarily God because she still hasn’t come to that realization, but certainly the predictability that she has created for herself, the tapes that she runs were beginning to break down.

It’s not just her, though, it’s also the disciples in this passage. They too are confused and rather dumbfounded by the actions of Jesus. Again, it appears that it’s him that doesn’t understand but it’s them. As Jews they too are aware of the judgment and the relationship that they have with Samaritans. As much as she knows it with them, they too know it with her. They aren’t to cross in the way that Jesus is leading them. They ask about food knowing he must be hungry and he speaks about something deep within them, the food that nourishes the heart and soul but they don’t know how to react, to respond. Their tapes as well seem to be getting frayed. When we cut ourselves off from the living water and the food of eternal life, we become stagnant. As Jesus says, you will always want more because you thirst and hunger for something that just isn’t satisfying you. There is a deeper hunger and a deeper thirst that Jesus will try to lead us through these weeks of John’s Gospel. He listens to understand. Can we do the same in return?

Which brings us to the Israelites. If anyone like predictability it was the Israelites. Think about it. These are the people that have just been led to this great liberation, set free from bondage, but almost immediately want to return to what they know. We find comfort in certainty and predictability. It makes us feel safe and gives us something to hold onto in life. But it also dries them up and dries us up. They quickly flee the living water of their own lives and return to grumbling, what they so often do best. They love to complain and see themselves as victims. That’s the tape they play. They, more often than not, do not listen to understand what and where Moses is leading, they listen to reply, to react through their own selfishness and their own small view of the world.

The readings the next few Sundays are going to challenge us in this way and to try to listen to them with fresh ears and hearts. Our natural inclination is to listen with the old tapes, knowing how the story ends and predicting its outcome. We like it that way but it also leads to suffering, isolation, and cutting ourselves off from the living water. We are invited to imagine ourselves sitting at the well with Jesus. The encounter alone breaks down our predictability of the situation and of our lives. He doesn’t listen to reply or to react but rather to understand. Can we do the same? Or better yet, do we want to do the same? Sometimes we just don’t want to change and be transformed. It’s much easier to live in the predictability of our lives, no matter how miserable we may become. Courage, we pray for that courage, to sit with Jesus at the well and allow ourselves to be vulnerable, open, and generous with sharing our story, our hurt and pain that continues to cut us off. He wants so much of and for each of us if we can simply listen to understand, and before you know it, sure, it may lead to doubt and uncertainty in our lives, but if can finally begin to open us to the love and mercy the savior of the world has to offer each of us.

One of the movies I caught over the holidays was A Monster Calls. The story is about a young boy, Conor, who finds himself just overwhelmed by life and not able to take much more of it. His parents are divorced, he’s bullied at school because he’s become so isolated, and now the one consistency in his life, his mother, is dying of cancer. He has this ongoing nightmare where he feels as if life is slipping through his hands. There’s so much uncertainly that he lives in this constant state of fear, let along the anxiety and anger he’s experiencing because of this deep grief.

But he encounters this “monster” which is the tree outside in the cemetery that comes to life. Even that distracts him from the nightmare he’s used to. He begins to call upon it. He begins to realize that the “monster” isn’t out there in the cemetery, it’s deep within him. The monster keeps assuring him that he’s leading him to healing, to this deeper truth that gets lost in the darkness of despair and this ongoing lie that he’s holding onto that everything will be alright and his mother will somehow survive. He begins to learn how to navigate through the darkness that has so often consumed his life and learns to let go. It’s not easy for us adults let along a young boy trying to navigate.

This whole season has been allowing ourselves to wander and navigate that same darkness in our lives. Christmas does not expel the darkness nor does it somehow destroy it. We seem to operate in the world that we can get rid of it which only leads to greater darkness. These Magi we encounter today are learning to do the same in their lives. Even their navigation is a bit off, leaning on their own expectations of a king being born. They find themselves a few miles outside Bethlehem in Jerusalem, in what seems to be their final challenge in learning how to navigate this great darkness, the Herod that lies within.

Fear rules Herod and the land and it’s what the Magi now must face within themselves. He was a tyrant and often believed to have been paranoid in the end of his days. He too finds himself in a position where life seems to be slipping through his fingers and losing control. However, he doesn’t let it go. Rather, he takes it out on the most vulnerable, on the children and has them killed. It’s fear, darkness, and despair when it comes to Herod but a valuable lesson for the Magi seeking life, the newborn King. it’s a struggle for many of us, the darkness within ourselves that is so often easier to cast upon the other rather than learning how to navigate it all. Jerusalem will become that same place for the disciples as the story goes on. They too won’t understand the Christ until they first encounter that same darkness. It won’t come in the form of Herod but in the form of a crucifixion by others who are plagued by darkness. Jerusalem becomes the doorway to Bethlehem.

And so they find their way to the Christ. They offer their own gifts, in someways symbolic of their own journey and the darkness that they too had to confront. The journey to the Christ took them where they’d rather not go, where we would rather not go, but like God, we are often led without even knowing, into the great unknown, into this deeper reality of mystery. For young Conor and for the disciples, it was about seeking truth and truth leads to darkness and to life. He had to let go of what he knew. It was no longer about the head knowledge that we want to cling to and how it’s supposed to be or how we want it to be, but rather a deeper knowledge. It’s deeper knowing and truth that so often is beyond words but lies deep within, ever so gently navigating us through that very darkness that we have feared.

As this season of Christmas draws to a close, the journey really just begins. We’ll hear the call of the disciples to go deeper. We’ll hear the call to enter into this journey and to begin to learn to trust something deeper within themselves as they too are led to uncharted territory, where all that they have known begins to slip through their fingers. They will be left with the same choice as the Magi as the encounter the Christ. Do they leave it all at that crib, with great humility, life and death, or do they cling to what they can see, what they know, what they are comfortable with in life? It is what is asked of us as well. With God’s grace, we can learn to navigate the darkest of times, but we can’t deal with the darkness of the country or the world until we first begin to master it within ourselves. When we do, like the Magi, we can no longer go home the same way. The seeking of and finding of the Christ changes the course of our lives where we too go home by another way. It’s no longer about going home to what we know but into the unknown, into this deeper mystery. No, and not that physical place we call home, but deep in the recesses of our hearts and souls, ever so gently teaching and guiding us, while casting light, to navigate the darkness of our lives.

Our society and culture thrives on success and if not on success, winning. We love to succeed and we love to win. No one wants to be a part of a losing team. Of course, at times we even push it to the limits where we will do what it takes to make it to the top. We see cheating in sports and we certainly know of success in the business world has often been on the backs of the people on the bottom. We have literally made success into a virtue that it has often been hard for us to critique it and see the impact it often has on our lives and the lives of others.

But it’s not just our thing. It seems as if it’s a part of our human nature to want to be on top, winners and successful. We even refer to it as climbing the ladder of success. We call it careerism and even clericalism in this Church sphere. But it’s not new. We see it with Zacchaeus in today’s gospel. We know, according to Luke, that he was the chief tax collector and he was a rich man. He was successful and we also know that he often did it while taking advantage of others along the way. He’s already pegged by the people as a cheat and extortioner. Zacchaeus is a climber and he does it well. Like us, he’s made it into a virtue and so it’s no wonder that he will do what he knows how to do well, he’ll climb to just catch a glimpse of Jesus as he passes through.

But the spiritual life isn’t like anything else. As much as we want to make success and winning into a virtue in our daily lives, it pretty much stands in opposition to our spiritual life and our relationship with God. In our spiritual life the virtues are much more about falling, about letting go, and about surrendering. If Zacchaeus is truly open to an encounter with this God that is passing through, then he’s going to have to fall from the tops of the tree and come down to meet the Lord face to face, falling into his love and mercy. But we don’t like to fall. We’ve probably all had those dreams where we find ourselves falling and it has a way of scaring us. It feels like our lives our out of control. It feels like fear and anxiety are taking over our lives. It feels like death in many ways and that makes us uncomfortable and it certainly doesn’t sound anything like success or winning, and it’s not and is at the same time. As Solomon, the writer of Wisdom tells us in the first reading today, this God, who is a lover of souls, has a way of always calling us forth to come home, a home deep within us that no longer is in need of success but rather connection, vulnerability, love, forgiveness. Where does Jesus want to meet Zacchaeus in today’s gospel. Ironically in his home. Today salvation has come to his home. He returns a changed man.

But there are still these grumblers we have to contend with in today’s gospel as well. We all know them because they are often us! They are the ones that have pegged Zacchaeus as a dirtbag. They know what he has done to them and others. They have him all figured out. But that stands as their greatest obstacle. The spirit of conversion is not only for Zacchaeus but for the grumblers. However, there is an openness that lacks in their lives to see Zacchaeus differently and so they’re certainly not going to see themselves differently either. If you don’t think you’re in need of conversion then it’s hard to be open to an encounter that’s going to change you. They have no ability to see their own sin or have quantified Zacchaeus as being worse then theirs. They have named success in their own way, as somehow being better than the other in a moral way. We may not achieve success in the way our culture and society has deemed it, but there is always a part of us that wants to see ourselves as on top, successful in our own way that also clouds us from seeing ourselves in need of conversion and our pride gets in the way, climbing our way to the top only to find ourselves at some point with the invitation to fall into the hands of love and mercy that invites us to this encounter as it was with Zacchaeus.

Like Wisdom tells us today, there remains that lover of souls that is always calling us to our true home, not necessarily just in the life to come, but at this very moment, a God that never gives us because of love. We may climb all we want, but at some point the branches that once sustained us can no longer hold the weight and we’ll find ourselves tumbling. That itself is an invitation from God, to embrace the virtues of the spiritual life now, surrendering, falling, letting go, and finding ourselves in this face to face encounter with the Lord of life. We can have it at this very moment when we embrace our need for forgiveness, climb over our pride, and allow ourselves to fall into love. When we do, like Zacchaeus, our lives are changed forever and so is the world around us.

Today we end our final stop on the Alaskan tour before heading up to Vancouver to head home after two weeks of adventure from gazing at Bald Eagles to trying reindeer for the first time, and even liking it! If you don’t know, Alaska’s State Motto is North to the Future. It was adopted on the centennial of the Alaskan Purchase and is described by Richard Peter, a Juneau journalist at the time, as “a reminder that beyond the horizon of urban clutter there is a Great Land beneath our flag that can provide a new tomorrow for this century’s ‘huddled masses yearning to be free’.”

Ironically, anything that I’ve seen, experienced, and witnessed seems to come in contradiction to what we, in the lower 48, deem as the future. When we think future we think progress and the ever-increasing presence of technology. Yet, most of the time traveling around the state I had very little internet access and phone service for that matter. It seemed as soon as I had the chance it was the first thing I grabbed for, that somehow I had to tell the world what I was doing, seeing, and experiencing here in Alaska. It’s become our way of life in many ways. We begin to adopt this mindset that the rest of the world cares about everything I am doing with my time! It’s easy, as I’ve mentioned in other posts on this trip, to get lost behind the camera and phone and miss what is before your very eyes and allowing it to speak to you and change you in some ways. Maybe the future isn’t all about technology and advancement, but back to the very basics of human contact and relationship and the experiences we share.

For many of us, suburban life has also become part of our way of life. We want to escape the ‘urban clutter’ that Richard Peter referenced and problems that have come to exist in our many cities in the country. There is very little city life, as we know it, here in Alaska. Many of the towns that we visited have no form of government. They manage to work out problems on their own. Of course, that has it’s downside as well when it comes to hospitals and the basic care of the people, which is lacking in many parts. The capital, Juneau, can’t even be accessed by road. In order to arrive in the city you must come by boat or plane. It’s incredible to think, knowing that I can get in the car and drive to Annapolis whenever I want back in Maryland.

At the same time, I don’t want to glorify, idealize, or even somehow romanticize Alaska. We met many who have spent their lives living off the land here and calling it home. Not one said they would ever leave it behind, however, they would also never deny how hard it can be. We have become so accustomed to running to the grocery store rather than living off the land, hunting, fishing. We have often lost that sense of hunter and gatherer that has been in the very DNA of the founding of this country and even prior to becoming a country, Natives who lived the life. Them too, though, we deemed as an obstruction to what we call progress. That doesn’t mean that all progress is bad. In many ways it is necessary and helps humanity. But if we lose the struggle and tension within ourselves of progress and yet remaining grounded, we begin to lose sight of our very humanity and the magnificence of a God that continues to reveal new ways of relating, understanding, and simply being ourselves.

Progress does not always mean getting better, despite that we’ve often equated them that way. Progress as humans on this journey, keeping our eyes on the future, means so often falling and facing defeat and finding within ourselves the hope to get back up, learning from it all, and growing deeper in love. When we view it through that lens so much of the other stuff just doesn’t seem to matter and can even go days without a phone or internet. It’s amazing to think that it wasn’t that long ago that we didn’t even have that ability and yet we somehow think we can’t live without it. We can.

This was always a ‘bucket list’ trip for me and I don’t even know what would be next. It’s the one place that I have always felt drawn to visit. There was a mystery to it all being so far away from the lower 48, even, at times, feeling like I was in another country! It was a lot of traveling, miles and miles of traveling, viewing, reflecting, experiencing, laughing, among other things, but it in no way has disappointed. One of the best things about it, that mystery is still there. There really is a mystique to the place like none other. Maybe it is the fact that it remains so undeveloped in a world where we can’t go a mile without another building, Wal Mart, or Starbucks, so often showing my own selfishness and ‘better than’ attitude. We have become so accustomed to convenience that we have so often become less patient and so impulsive, thinking we can have what we want and when we want it.

In many ways, Alaska has slowed me down and quieted me down. One of the hardest things is going back, knowing that the chatter of work and life will soon take over. That’s not to say that they don’t have their own version of it all, but this time, as hard as it is to believe at times, especially considering the fact that I’m currently sitting on a Princess Cruise ship, was a time of pilgrimage into the often ruggedness of my own soul, from the icy glaciers, the deep, blue waters, and the wild peaks of Denali. It’s all here and it’s all within me now as well, catching a glimpse of the way God not only creates the world but continues to recreate me with each experience. I

n some ways, Alaska probably is the Future, but not in the ways we have come to expect. It may, at times, be considered the last frontier, but after spending time here, I can say it’s more the beginning of a frontier to a deeper reality of the mystery of our lives and the frontier journey we’re all invited into in our lives. As they can tell you here, life really is what you make of it. Sometimes the more we think we need to advance and make progress comes at a great cost. As a country and world we have to ask ourselves what really is most important and just because we can do things doesn’t mean we should. What’s most important is relationship, encounter, experience, human contact, life. We truly have all we need for our future. Can we now accept the invitation to live counter-culturally and find value in what matters most in our lives? That’s really the question and reflection for all of us in this life.

Wilderness appealed to those bored or disgusted with man and his works. It not only offered an escape from society but also was an ideal stage for the Romantic individual to exercise the cult that he frequently made of his own soul. The solitude and total freedom of the wilderness created a perfect setting for either melancholy or exultation. ~ Roderick Nash

Today is our final day on the land portion of the trip to Alaska and begin the transition to the ship early tomorrow morning. For the final day I opted to set out on a guided nature tour down the Cooper River with our guide, Blake. It provided a little more time to simply sit and be in the presence of the majestic nature that surrounded us, from snow-capped mountains to the depths of the forested national park that surrounded us on the ride.

I’ve been so struck by the number of young people and listening to their stories of what brought them here to Alaska in the first place. So many started with doing similar type trips at some point in their lives and then find their way back for one reason or another. The same was true with this guide who spends the rest of the year in Minnesota with his wife but still manages to come here for ten years to work the river in one capacity or another, from salmon fishing to white water rafting with visitors from around the world who come here to Alaska seeking something. What may start as a vacation for some turns into something much more when they encounter the vast lands that continue to speak volumes and for generations to come.

Blake mentioned how is father has given him a hard time over the years, wanting him to use his college education to be a part of the work force, in the corporate world. I’m guessing that’s what many parents would expect of their sons and daughters. He did it for a time and yet never felt satisfied, as if there were something more for him that exceeded the expectations of his father and his education. It was amazing just how much he knew that river, every twist and turn that led us further down and deeper into the forest. He knew it. He feels it. He lives that river like nothing else and keeps returning despite the demands and expectations to “grow up”, whatever that might mean.

There’s something inviting about the river. Those that know me know that the river has not always been my friend over the years. After nearly losing my life while white water rafting nearly thirteen years ago now, I feared returning to it, despite it often calling my name to return. I may never white water raft again, but I haven’t allowed myself to be paralyzed by fear to return in one way or another. Today was yet another one of those days and listening to Blake speak about it reminded me today just how strong the current can be within us to seek adventure and take risk in our lives, even if it means breaking down the stereotype of what we have called success to live a fuller life, one that continues to feed us in a way that many others will just never understand.

I have found that it is practically necessary to return to nature, even when it has arisen fears within us that we feel will paralyze us for life. I think about Phil the other day who had been attacked by the grizzly in Denali. He may have to face the aftershocks of such an encounter over the course of his life, but it’s not going to stop him from living from that deeper place, that place that runs deeper than fear, the river that runs deep within our soul, yearning to be emptied into the vastness of the sea that continues to feed.

As much as it has been a place that I have had to face my own mortality, the encounter and experience of water remains the place that grounds my very being. Maybe it’s because I have witnessed its power and has taught me to reverence and respect it. Watching it flow so quickly around me today reminded me of the strength that it has to bring about life and death, so often when we least expect it. Yet, there we were, snow-capped mountains, freezing water temperatures, trees in full bloom, and trying to take it all in at the same time. The vastness of the lands around us pale in comparison to the vastness of what landscape of the soul that lies within. Sure there are parts of us that will terrify and feel as if we’re out of control, but a trip down the Cooper today reminded me that it’s not just me but all of the natural world that continues to be invited into deeper mystery and when we can finally begin to let go and accept it, all we can feel is the wind blowing through our hair taking us to places we never could have imagined!

In the first reading and Gospel today, we encounter a man and woman who have both sinned, and as we say, sinned boldly in their own way. We can’t say that we know much about the sin of the woman in today’s Gospel other than what is projected onto her by Simon and the pharisees that gather at table with Jesus in the scene. Ironically, them trying to expose her simply exposes their own sin, but like many of us, they are blinded by it. They can’t see their own sin and so try to expose it onto the other.

The first reading, though, well, we kind of know what David has been up to. Long story short, David finds himself drowning in his own sin. He has had relations with Bathsheba and gets her pregnant, but in order to cover things up, he then has her husband, Urriah the Hittite, murdered while on the front line of battle. He then has to deal with the consequences of the death of the child that he has with Bathsheba. So, we can say, things aren’t necessarily going in David’s direction at the moment. But then there’s Nathan. Nathan loves David. He cares about his well-being and is, in many ways, a spiritual mentor to David. He knows he’s been a loose canon and he’s going to try to reel him in now. That, though, is what allows Nathan to be that person to David. David is young and naive. His own lustfulness gets the best of him. He’s abusing the power that has been given to him. Yet, Nathan has a love for him and sheds light onto his sin. He loves him regardless of his sin and David repents. Only in and through love that such sin not only be exposed but be transformed at the same time.

Then there is this gospel story we hear today from Luke. There’s a whole lot going on at this dinner that Jesus was invited to for the evening. We can question the invitation that Jesus is given in the first place. There seems to be an ulterior motive on the part of Simon at this point. Then there is the woman who has sinned and is exposed by all of them at the table. Of course, they’re so blinded by it that they can’t see the judgment that they are casting upon her. Everything about her actions says that she has experienced forgiveness on a deeper level. Her encounter with Jesus has everything to do with him and his love for her and the freedom that it brings her in life. She no longer has to be burdened or identified by her sin. It doesn’t take away the fact that she had sinned, but at the same time, had a heart ready to receive forgiveness and love in return.

So maybe the story is more about Simon and the Pharisees that gather at table, understanding that there is a pharisee in all of us that continuously wants to judge us and put us down, tell us that we’re less than ourselves. If we haven’t had that experience of love, we begin to believe what the Pharisee says and the criteria in which they judge. Everything about their actions, including Simon, says just the opposite of the woman, they are in no place in their own lives to be open to the freedom given by love and forgiveness. They can’t even accomplish the basic expectations of hospitality to the guest because of their judgment. All they can see is what they see and they see her sin and not their own. They can’t accept what is given to them and the love that is sitting at their table! They have become so blinded by their sin that not even the love of Jesus can penetrate the judgement that weighs their hearts. The reality is, the gift is always being freely given and we exemplify it through our charity as the woman in the gospel does today.

They are challenging readings for us today because they push us to look at the blindspots of our own lives and where, like the pharisees, fail to see our sin, our failure to love, our failure to forgiven and be forgiven. It’s so easy to choose to live our lives that way rather than allow ourselves to be open to something new that can take shape when we allow love to penetrate our hearts. Hopefully we all have the Nathan’s in our lives that can shed light on our shadow through their love or as Jesus does in the gospel today. Neither tells them how to live their lives, but rather points them in the direction towards love and in love, all at the same time. As we gather at this Eucharist, we pray that we too may be exposed in such a way that love poured out on this Table can penetrate our own hearts, to free us from judgment, and transform us into love and to become love to the people we encounter in our lives.